21, Nov., 2007
Author's Note: Oh, dear. This was posted quite a while back, wasn't it? It's just terrible, terrible writing. Dreadful, and my lord, the grammar… Please do forgive me. I was young.
The Black Spot
"You're a marked man Jack Sparrow." Bootstrap said as Jack looked in vain at the black spot that was inked on his hand. Then Bootstrap disappeared.
"Captain. Captain Jack Sparrow." Jack said to no one in particular. Then he stared at the black spot on his hand. The Kraken would look for the one who bears the black mark. He had to get it off.
Taking a piece of cloth of his shirt, he rubbed the spot furiously. Nothing. Pouring a splash of rum onto the cloth, he once again rubbed with the now wet cloth. Again, nothing.
For once, his sacred rum had failed him. He refused to waste another drop on the blasted spot. He took a giant swig off rum and finished off that bottle. He looked around for a replacement glass. There wasn't one in sight. "Why is the rum always gone?" He recited a line he seemed to say way to often. Then he turned his attention back to the spot.
"You will come off. Know that." He rubbed his hands together furiously, but his attempts were in vain.
Out of desperation, he clapped his hands together loudly, and being Jack, began hopping around. His lips were pursed and his eyebrows tightened. He looked absolutely ridiculous.
Even his silly little dance didn't fade that dern spot.
He went above deck and walked up to his first mate, Gibbs. "Gibbs, my boy, take us to land, immediately." He slapped Gibbs on the back with the hand bearing the spot. He slapped harder than usual and pressed harder against Gibbs' back in an attempt to rid his hand off the mark.
He removed his hand and peered at it. If he squinted his eyes just right, it might have faded a little…No, it was still there, unfaded and inescapably black. This was beginning to get annoying.
When the arrived in Tortuga, Jack raced around, bottle of rum in hand. After finishing a third bottle of rum, he turned his attentions back to the spot.
He washed a few of the sails on the Pearl, while taking the time to scrub his hand with the dreadful soap. No luck. He sighed in frustration and tried a new tactic. He scrubbed his hands in saltwater. It burned, but didn't remove.
So, that's the way the spot wanted to play. He was Captain Jack Sparrow, by golly; he'd get this thing off!
Or not.
Try as Jack might, the spot didn't come off, fade or even smear. So, as it was, he was stuck with it. He'd have to beat the Kracken and Davy Jones, because the spot would give him away.
But, he would win, even if he did fight. Because, after all, he was Captain Jack Sparrow.